


Hello

by Kitty_Kinneas



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, possible trigger warning, suicide warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-03 22:36:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6629746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitty_Kinneas/pseuds/Kitty_Kinneas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony has hit rock bottom. Steve isn't answering his calls.</p><p>It's so easy just to...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hello

**Author's Note:**

> I was doing the dishes the other day and Adele's "Hello" came on my Pandora playlist. As I was listening, I thought it could fit quite well as a Stony story, following the events of Civil War. Of course I have no idea what the events of Civil War are going to be, so its based really around the trailer.
> 
> I don't actually believe anything that happens or might happen in Civil War is Tony's fault alone, so please don't come out swinging! But this fic is entirely from Tony's PoV and we all know how self-destructive he is.
> 
> The messages he leaves are based on the verses/chorus of "Hello", heavily edited, of course!
> 
> Also I hate spoilers, and I have not seen or heard any for Civil War. Kindly refrain from spoilers in my comments! XD

_Hey. It's... uh... well it's me. It's... been a while... I was hoping we might be able to get together... you know... t-talk about everything that happened. ...I've... I... I miss you... I don't feel any better about any of it than I did when it happened... and it still... It still... hurts... Wow, that's lame. I'm sorry._

 

Tony dropped his phone on the bed and flung his arm over his eyes. The other dangled at the wrist off the edge of the bed, the neck of a very rare, very expensive fifty-year-old bottle of Highland Park whiskey dangling in his fingers. The bottle was super fancy and Howard had paid a super high price for it.

 

Tony had taken a vicious pleasure in draining not only this bottle, but two more, different labels, but just as expensive for no other reason than to get blind drunk. Hopefully the old bastard was turning over in his grave.

 

His head listed to the side, brown eyes resting on his phone and he blinked back the dampness in them. He didn't know what he'd expected. Steve hadn't answered any of his calls for years. He used to try every day. For years, he hadn't tried at all.

 

His vision blurred, unconsciousness tugged at him.

 

_Hey from sunny Cali... Remember... remember after... the Battle of New York... and we all went for shawarma? Man, we were so wrecked... I don't even remember what it tasted like. But I remember afterwards... I_ never  _forgot that... Do you remember...? Do you... d'you think about it... me...? Do you think about me at all any more...? Huh... forget I asked... I know the answer._

 

He didn't remember making the second call, but he remembered spending the two hours after it praying to the porcelain god, head splitting, eyes watering.

 

Masochistically, perhaps, he'd written algorithms into Jarvis' programming to track Steve and they pinged now. He dragged himself back to the bed and flopped on his back, rubbing a hand over his face. Probably (definitely) still drunk he flickered his fingers in the air and a holoscreen popped up.

 

Steve was putting down some minor villain who'd decided hijacking the underground was a good idea. Well, Tony reflected, it probably was, but only if you did it cleverly, and he hadn't. Steve barely broke a sweat, and most New Yorkers still made it to work on time.

 

The cameras followed him and Tony watched, riveted, as Steve took out his phone, frowned at it, swiped it and slid it back into the protective pocket on his belt. The vision bit into him, stinging a lot worse than it had any right to.

 

He rolled over angrily as the feed cut back to the anchor in the studio.

 

_Do you hate me? I... know I made some mistakes... I know I... upset you, but... do you really hate me that much? Are we that different? Are we that far apart?_

  
He pressed the corner of his phone to his forehead, eyes squeezed tight shut against the sorrow behind them. He'd done the right thing. He'd done what he thought was best. Steve had done the same, though, and the rift between them was a divide they couldn't cross.

 

He'd handled it so badly and felt the loss keenly. The team, yes, but more than anything he missed _Steve_.

 

The entire time, he'd been sure it would come crashing down around him. Well, almost the entire time. He'd just started to relax, just begun thinking maybe it wouldn't end when...

 

He could blame Barnes. He could  _easily_ . He was very good at blaming. But what good would it do? Steve had made his own choices. Tony had made his. And he'd been so blinded by his righteous beliefs he hadn't realised how bad it was all going to go.

 

The thought of fighting Steve sickened him. The fights over Ultron had rattled them both when it was all said and done, and they'd both been contrite and gentle with one another, burying their verbal and physical arguments during the whole sorry state beneath endearments and sensation. They'd swallowed pride and said sorry and it was  _so good_ .

 

Until it all went so bad.

 

Nausea seized him again. He staggered to the bathroom.

 

_Hello? Me again. Probably for like... the thousandth time, right? I just... I hate..._ this _. We were... and I hate that it's over. I've hated it since it happened. And I... want... Look, will you just... please pick up next time? I want to... fix it...? That's what I do, right? I fix things. I want to... fix us. Please... I need to apologise for all the... the... stuff that went down... all the things... I did... I... I... guess you're not home... again..._

 

Tony stared at his phone, the call ended. Laughter bubbled up from him and he was coherent enough to realise it was verging on hysterical. Not home? It was a freaking cellphone number. He had  _literally seen_ Steve ignore his voice message. Heck, he hadn't even listened to it on the footage. He probably hadn't listened to  _any_ of the messages.

 

Probably a good thing, Tony reflected hazily, realising belatedly there was a new half-empty bottle of super expensive scotch resting on its side on the carpet. He couldn't remember drinking it, but when he smacked his lips, he tasted it.

 

He was also on the floor. When had that happened? He shrugged, blinking owlishly and rolled towards the bottle, dragging it across the thick carpet. He deftly opened it one-handed.

 

His phone rang several times.

 

It was always Pepper.

 

He ignored it.

 

 _I mean, it's not like I haven't tried. I tried and tried and tried after... all that stuff... You know it as well as I do... All those 'missed' calls... Why do you even keep the phone? Why not change your number? Uh... never mind that. I just... I'm really sorry... I know I... Well, to put it melodramatically, I broke your heart. Or... I thought I did... back then... but... I guess it doesn't matter any more... doesn't seem to bother you any more._  
  
He'd been on a lot of medications, Tony reflected as he stared vaguely into his medicine cabinet. He didn't even remember what half of them had been prescribed for. The bottle of scotch, mostly empty now, still hung from his fingers and with the other hand he reached up, turning the little bottles so he could read the labels.

 

If he hadn't been a genius he was sure he wouldn't be able to read half of them. As it was, some of them had so many syllables strung together that his inebriated tongue certainly couldn't negotiate them.

 

His algorithm pinged and he shuffled back to the bedroom to watch the footage, leaving the medicine cabinet hanging open.

 

 _I know, I know... I just keep talking about myself. Sorry... But you know you never answer my calls so I don't know what else to talk about. I can't talk about what you're up to. Hope everything's going okay with you... I mean, it looks like it on the TV, but I know better than anyone how much the press lies... Been outside of New York for anything but missions recently? Hm? Bet not. ...Should come to Cali... You could always... always bunk... here..._  
  
Why wouldn't he just pick up?

 

Tony's throat burned and the scotch was all gone.

 

His eyes burned but the tears were all gone.

 

He went back to the bathroom.

 

_It's not gonna be much longer... Not much... You've got... years... decades and decades probably... I've got..._

 

The caps were harder to get off than the scotch lid. He couldn't do it one-handed. He was nothing if not determined.

 

There were lots of colours. He used them to represent schematics.

 

_I miss you._

 

A new motorbike. A new stars-and-stripes costume. A new shield harness.

 

_Please pick up._

 

The sun was rising but he didn't notice it. There were too many for the next schematic. He swallowed the extras.

 

_I've called you_ so _many times!_

 

It was easy after the first few. He wasn't afraid.

 

_I'm sorry. Please pick up._

 

It was easy.

 

_I love you._

 

The sunrise took him gently.

 


End file.
